


discipline

by notavodkashot



Series: FFXV one shots [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 02:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13226706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notavodkashot/pseuds/notavodkashot
Summary: There's more than one way of keeping Nyx in line.





	discipline

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt meme in tumblr:
> 
> discipline, naked and whimpering over Drautos' desk, (fingering?) Drautos/Nyx

Nyx holds onto the edge of the desk, nails scratching at the varnish, and grinds his teeth to keep still. It’s hard. It’s so hard, he wants to come and he wants to fall, but he’s been told not to, either of those, so he holds onto the edge and feels his thighs tremble with the effort to hold still.

Titus’ fingers slide idly inside him, deceptively mindless in each sweep, in and out, and then tracing the puckered, loosened rim of his hole. It’s been nearly an hour, now, and Nyx feels loose and ready and wanton, but he’s been told to be quiet, to stay still, to not come.

He wants to scream.

It’s worse when he drops his head down, because he can see him, sitting back, reading a report held in the hand that’s not slowly, but surely tearing him apart. Like Nyx isn’t even there, splayed open and ready - he’s so, so ready, now.

Titus’ phone rings the alarm, and Nyx wants to sob, his hour of penance completed, but he holds still, waits for permission. he doesn’t want to ruin it. He’s blown it before, took for granted without waiting for orders, and then he was left raw and on edge for even longer, because of it.

“Would you look at that,” Titus mutters, almost disinterested, if not for the fact he pulls his fingers out and Nyx has to bite the inside of his lip to not cry out about it. “So you do know how to follow orders,” he adds, turning off the alarm and putting his phone on the other side of his desk. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Nyx hisses, each syllable a struggle, and then he yelps when wide hands wrap around his waist and pull him sharply, twisting him until he’s sprawled on Titus’ lap, legs awkwardly hooked on the armrests of his chair and his red, hard cock displayed for him to see. “Please, sir. Please. I want…”

“I can imagine what you want,” Titus says, a little dryly, a little sharply, “still don’t know why you’d deserve it, though, after not doing what you were told.”

He had, Nyx wants to say. He had! Titus had said, don’t die, and Nyx hadn’t. He hadn’t. It had been a near thing, but he lived. He’s alive and wanting and breaking. He whimpers instead, too gone for words, and then sobs with relief when he feels the head of Titus’ cock against him, sliding in almost with no resistance.

“Good boy,” Titus hisses, gathering him up against him, and Nyx falls apart, one piece at the time, limp and boneless in his arms, “such a good boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on [DW](https://notavodkashot.dreamwidth.org/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/notavodkashot), if you'd like.


End file.
